Shadows Hanging Over Me
by brookemopolitan
Summary: Sequel to Smoke And Mirrors... Missing scenes from Mockingjay from the perspectives of Haymitch and Effie. Rating is cautionary for violence.
1. Chapter 1

**So... y'all twisted my arm and I wrote a sequel to Smoke and Mirrors. I suppose that you could read this without reading that first, but I imagine you'll struggle (but basically, Haymitch and Effie were in an undefined but significant relationship and Effie was aware that the revolution was happening)... just read it, kay?  
**

_**TRIGGER WARNING: DISCUSSION OF TORTURE! (There will likely be discussion of sexual violence as well, but it is NOT discussed in this chapter). Read this at your own discretion.**_

**Many thanks to my dear beta, Em :)**

**As usual, I own nothing (but Elizabeth Banks's IMDB says she's in Mockingjay part 1! Excitement!)**

* * *

Haymitch paced as he waited for the crew of Rebels, led by Gale Hawthorne to return from their insane suicide mission rescuing Peeta and Annie from the Capitol. Haymitch had known it was risky. He had attempted to argue potential waste of life as a factor for why they shouldn't go ahead with this kamikaze mission, but the words had caught in his throat… Haymitch could admit it; he was jealous. Katniss and Finnick were about to get their one true loves back and he didn't know where the hell Effie was.

When Plutarch had ordered that the hovercraft to leave the rooftop rendezvous point the night that Katniss had destroyed the Quarter Quell Arena, it had taken three of his team to restrain Haymitch from diving out of the craft and going to find Effie.

Effie's face had haunted him all throughout his alcoholic withdrawal. She could be dead. Her tongue had more than likely been cut out. If she'd been caught when she was attempting to escape to the roof, she'd be shown no mercy. Euphemia Trinket would have been branded an enemy of the Capitol and if the destruction of District Twelve was any measure of how President Snow dealt with treachery, Effie was certainly doomed.

Haymitch hadn't breathed a word about Effie to anybody. He barely had a hold on the floods of rage he used to numb with alcohol and he knew that one flippant comment from Alma Coin would send his self-control flying out of the window and leave him in a pair of handcuffs. Instead, his rage boiled under his skin, barely contained and ready to explode at any second. He just needed the right provocation.

The flashing lights of the transport they'd sent out were a relief. Gale stepped out of the ship, the picture of a Rebel soldier and Haymitch forced himself to stand still and listen to his briefing.

"It was almost too easy," Gale sighed, gesturing for Haymitch to come with him onto the ship. "They were all right there. Only problem we had was the one that we didn't anticipate."

"What the hell happened?" Haymitch demanded, ducking his head as they made their way through the hovercraft.

Screams started to rip through the air. Haymitch frowned. Annie's screams were to be expected. But it wasn't Annie screaming. It was Johanna; bellowing at the top of her lungs. Haymitch barely caught a word of it as he followed Gale down the narrow path to the wing that held passengers. It was eerily similar to the transport that had taken Haymitch to the Games, but he pushed away that memory as he focussed on Gale's report.

"We had just managed to acquire the targets and were moving back out to the ship when Johanna flipped. Kept screaming that we couldn't leave her behind. She latched onto the bars of cell door and we couldn't peel her off the damn thing. Annie saw it and started wailing. They were both going ballistic so we had to throw the plan out the window." Gale stepped to the side, giving Haymitch an undisturbed vision of what had caused the escape plan to be so hugely altered that Gale was bothering to report it.

The Rebels had rolled a large metal wheel onto the hovercraft.

Haymitch recoiled. Emaciated to the point of starvation, completely naked, skin black and blue from constant beatings, thighbone broken and exposed through pale skin, was a woman.

"I don't know who it is, but Johanna, Annie and Peeta seemed horrified at the idea of leaving her behind and they were making so much noise that I was sure they'd bring every Peacekeeper in the Capitol down to the prison wing, so I had to improvise."

Haymitch stepped closer to the brutalised woman. Her head had been shaved to a bare dusting of blonde fuzz, but he'd recognise those freckles anywhere.

"Effie," he murmured, his hand brushing her face in an attempt to rouse her from her from the stupor she was in, staring at the wall, the occasional whimper leaving her mouth. He looked up at the leather restraints binding Effie to the wheel.

"We figured the quickest way to get out of there was to drag the whole thing along. We couldn't untie those knots," Gale commented.

Haymitch pulled out the knife that hadn't left his side since the second he'd left the Capitol and stripped off his overcoat. "Get a medic," he ordered, not even bothering to turn and look Gale in the eye. "She's going to need surgery."

Haymitch barely registered the sound of Gale's boots crunching against the ground as he walked away. "Sweetheart, you with me?" Haymitch crooned, slowly cutting away the bonds on Effie's ankles. He supressed a wave of hatred for Snow when he saw the puddle of blood on the floor, steadily leaking from her open wound. She began to stir as he moved to her wrists. He was sure to support her slight weight as she collapsed against him, her injured leg unable to take any weight. "You gave us a scare, Princess," he commented evenly, trying not to startle her further.

"Where am I?" Effie whimpered, eyes wide with fear.

"You're in District Thirteen. You're safe, Effie," Haymitch soothed her as he draped his coat around her in a vain attempt to protect her modesty. He nodded in greeting to the medic who powered into the room. In seconds, they'd pulled Effie away from him to begin a cursory examination.

Effie sat still, her eyes glazed over to the point where Haymitch was spookily reminded of the zombie stories they used to tell as kids, late at night down on the Seam. It wasn't until they lay her back onto a stretcher that she reached out and latched onto Haymitch's hand, her bony fingers digging into his. "Haymitch, I didn't tell them anything!" She screeched, blue eyes bulging from her gaunt face. She hissed in pain as wet dressings were placed over her exposed thighbone, a tight bandage strapped around her gaping wound. "They never broke me, I swear," she was close to tears now, her hand painfully tight as she gripped his fingers.

Haymitch gestured for the medics to stay put. "I know they didn't, Sweetheart," he hummed, his free hand cupping her face. "You're too damn stubborn for that." He almost got a smile for that quip. "Let's get you patched up, okay?" He suggested.

He walked with Effie for as long as the medics would let him. He sighed heavily. He wanted a drink, badly. Coin was going to _hate_ this… he needed to do some sweet-talking, fast.

* * *

Haymitch knew that throwing a knife at Alma Coin was probably not the way to get her onside. But the more she insisted that Thirteen's hospitals couldn't possibly accommodate an extra patient, despite the fact that the head doctor insisted that they were more than capable of treating Effie and the open fracture would be an excellent teaching opportunity for young medical students, the more tempting the thought became. It didn't actually have to hit her… whizzing past her ear and lodging into the bland, grey wall would be just as effective.

"Absolutely not. She's a Capitol citizen," Coin declared resolutely.

"So is Plutarch," Haymitch refuted. "And Fulvia," he added.

"Surely I don't need to point out that they were actively working to bring about the revolution," Coin countered crisply. "Not Reaping children for their deaths."

Haymitch cringed. Coin had no idea what a low blow that was. "Effie was involved in the Revolution," he snapped, finally relinquishing hold on his trump card. "I told her everything."

Coin gaped at him. "You mean to tell me you told the harlot keeping your bed warm highly confidential information as pillow talk?" She spat.

Haymitch shrugged, refusing to take the bait. "She came and visited Twelve. Was going to really stick it to the Capitol and refuse to do the Quarter Quell Reaping. I couldn't let her do that, so I told her everything. She was the one who kept eyes off me in the Capitol so that my secret rendezvous with Plutarch could go unnoticed."

"Soldier Abernathy," Coin began, clearly ramping up to tear Haymitch a new asshole.

"You'll notice that she didn't actually spill any big secrets," Haymitch pointed out. "And all your precious Victors lost their shit at the thought of her being left behind. Effie Trinket is more valuable that you realise." He paused and let his words sink in. "If you prefer, I could go give Johanna Mason a tour of the facilities and when we're in the kitchens let it slip that you're refusing to give Effie treatment. I don't know if you got footage of the Games down here in Thirteen, but the girl knows her way around a blade and doesn't tend to react well when she's given bad news."

The Head Doctor cleared his throat. "A decision needs to be made, and quickly," he interjected. "She has an open fracture and the risk of infection is high," he straightened his shoulders as he paused, almost visibly gathering his courage. "As a physician, I don't care where she came from. She's wounded and I have the capacity to heal her. To order me otherwise would be criminal," he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'm ordering her surgery, now."

Coin heaved a frustrated sigh. She knew she'd lost the battle. "Treat her, then. But she gets no special treatment. No extra food, the bare minimum of medications. You fix her wound as quickly as possible and that is it. Don't make her comfortable with resources that could be better spent on District Thirteen citizens."

The doctor nodded and waddled out the door before Coin could change her mind. Coin turned back to Haymitch. "Don't you ever undermine my authority again," she muttered dangerously.

"I merely encouraged you to treat a former prisoner of war with more compassion than your political rival," Haymitch responded tartly. "Can't see how that undermines anything."

"I don't need your insubordination in front of my citizens," Coin growled. "Peeta is back. Let Katniss see him so that we can get back to work taking down Snow."

Coin's fundamental lack of compassion grated on Haymitch more than he cared to admit. He turned when he was at the door. "Until Trinket has the all clear," he struggled to keep his tone neutral as he addressed Coin. "We don't tell Katniss a thing."

Coin raised an eyebrow.

"That girl has enough deaths on her conscience. She doesn't need another."

* * *

Haymitch took a leaf out of Katniss's book and ignored the schedule printed on his arm. He'd been given every single menial task that could be conceived and he was sure it had been done as petty retribution for fighting for Effie's surgery. He hated District Thirteen. He hated being bound by the routine and bland grey walls. He longed for the green meadows of home and the familiar walls of his house, where he was a recluse by choice.

He nodded to Camilla Everdeen, who was silently scrawling on a chart as she checked the various machines that were monitoring Effie. "You took your time coming down here," she commented. "Before we were allowed to give her morphling, she kept screaming your name."

"What do you mean before you were allowed to give her morphling?" Haymitch asked. He could imagine who was behind that decision, but he wondered what had sparked the change.

Camilla confirmed his suspicions. "President Coin expressly forbade us giving her anything stronger than the herbal remedies I had stored up from Katniss's hunting expeditions and there's only so much sleeping syrup you can give a person before their organs begin to shut down," she informed him. "Johanna overheard us discussing it in the main wing of the hospital and insisted that Effie be given the supply allocated to her."

That explained why Johanna was so green around the gills. Haymitch could spot an addict in withdrawal a mile away and he knew that something huge must have happened in that prison to have Johanna give up her poison.

"She's good for you," Camilla commented as she filled in a chart. "Ever since we were fourteen I knew you'd need a hell of a woman to keep you in line."

Haymitch smirked. His world was broken into two parts… Before Reaping and After Victory. In his Before Reaping life, he'd earned himself a reputation as quite the troublemaker; constantly outsmarting their long-suffering teacher, and his pranks were legendary. His mother was regularly dragged up to the school to hear about Haymitch's terrible behaviour and then Haymitch was regularly dragged home by his ear. "A lot of things have changed since then," he murmured. "But you're probably right about needing a hell of a woman." He sat down by Effie's bedside, picking up one of her bruised hands and cupping it between both of his.

"She'll tell you what she went through in that prison when she's ready," Camilla assured him gently. "But I can tell you that she fought tooth and nail against them until the last second."

A shudder wracked through Haymitch as he stared at Effie's still form. She'd always been a lithe, petite little thing, the muscles on her body toned purely for aesthetic reasons and not for strength. The idea of her fighting against the brute strength of a Peacekeeper was sickening; she wouldn't have stood a chance.

"We usually give her a slightly stronger dose of morphling as we do our tests," Camilla murmured. "She'll be waking up soon."

Haymitch could only nod, his thumb tracing absent minded circles on Effie's palm. Camilla squeezed his shoulder before replacing the chart and walking quietly out of the room. He was grateful that Camilla Everdeen had taken some kind of responsibility for Effie's care. She was the most compassionate person he'd ever met in his life and her skills as a healer had saved plenty of lives on the Seam. He hoped that Katniss had been a little bit dignified in how she'd presented Effie to her mother and that Camilla's response to Effie's care had been motivated by a desire to help protect the woman that had safely guided Katniss through two years of the Hunger Games.

Mostly, he just wanted Effie to be okay. Surely they wouldn't have bothered to beat her to within an inch of her life if they hadn't suspected that she knew something. That was his fault. He never should have told her a thing. Never should have assumed that she would be able to stop the Capitol from suspecting a thing. Snow was always a step ahead of them and Haymitch should have known that they'd been exposing themselves to Capitol surveillance. Perhaps they'd hurt her so badly purely out of spite. He'd escaped the Capitol and they'd hurt her because they couldn't get to him.

He really wanted a drink. Ripper's white liquor would make the mess of his thoughts so much easier to deal with.

His train of thought was broken when he heard a tiny whimper from Effie.

"Hey Princess," he said softly. Waking up from morphling induced sleep could leave you with a pounding headache, so he kept his voice quiet and calm as Effie reacquainted herself with the sterile grey room.

"You came to see me," she sighed, her eyes slipping shut as she tried to adjust to the bright light of the room. "I thought you never wanted to see me again."

He knew morphling had a funny little habit of making a medicated person blurt out all their hidden thoughts and emotions. He decided to hold onto that little piece of information until Effie was in a better place to explain herself. "Now why would I want that?" Haymitch asked her, his free hand coming up to cup her cheek. "I've been bored to tears without somebody's buttons to push."

She looked as though she'd gained some weight. That was good. Her hair was starting to grow out of the buzz cut. She was staring at him, her wide blue eyes, glowing prominently from her too-thin face studied him carefully, almost memorising his features in case she found herself back in the bowels of the Capitol's torture chamber and she needed something to remember him by. "Am I safe here, Haymitch?" she whispered.

Her words pierced his heart. She'd surely been seen and not heard in the days since her rescue, confined to her sickbed in the throes of pain, without a familiar face to reassure her. They'd been so caught up with Peeta and his hijacking that the poor Capitol wench had been ignored, locked away in a shiny new prison. "They'll have to go through me before anything happens to you," Haymitch replied fiercely. He lifted her bandaged hand, pressing a kiss to her healing knuckles.

"You're wearing the bracelet," Effie's eyes were suspiciously shiny when she spotted the golden bracelet he'd passed off to Finnick and Haymitch hoped she wouldn't cry.

"We're a team, aren't we?" He responded, his lips still brushing her skin.

"The children," Effie mumbled. She attempted to sit up, groaning when she jarred her injured leg, hanging up in traction so the muscles and bones would heal straight. Haymitch stood and adjusted the bed so that she was seated.

"Haymitch, how are they?" Effie demanded. "What did they do to Peeta? And how is Katniss?"

Haymitch sighed. "Katniss is a mess," he replied. "She's in District Two now, trying to persuade their allegiance away from the Capitol."

"Is that safe?" Effie interjected.

"As safe as it can be in a time of war," Haymitch replied. "She left because she's heartbroken." He paused. He was sure that Coin had ordered everybody in contact with Effie to keep their mouths shut and tell her nothing. There was no way he was going to pander to that mentality. "Peeta decided an appropriate way to greet Katniss upon arriving here was to grab her by the throat and pin her to a wall." He smirked. "Not really good manners, was it?"

Effie managed a tiny grin at that. "You want to know what happened to him, don't you?" She asked.

Haymitch still hadn't let go of her hand. His thumb moved in circles against her palm. "I don't want to force you to do anything, Sweetheart," he replied.

"At first, they just made him watch," Effie whispered. "They didn't need to touch Annie. Empty threats were enough to keep her quiet, and really, we all knew she was there to torment Finnick." She shuddered. "Johanna and I were the playthings, though. Both of us were indispensible to the Capitol, and they treated us as such."

Haymitch forced himself to keep his face neutral, but inside, he was screaming. He'd had his suspicions about what had happened to Effie when he saw her on the wheel, and he was filled with terror when he realised that he was going to have his dark thoughts confirmed.

"The Capitol really are the masters of torture," Effie mused. "They let Enobaria basically roam free because District Two was loyal, but she had to be reminded that she was just District scum and the Capitol had supreme power over her. So they had her beat me. Then they had her choose the electrical setting for Johanna's treatments," she sniffled, but her eyes remained dry. "And they forced Peeta to watch."

The torture was perfect, then. It was no secret in District Twelve that Alba Mellark kept her sons in line with a sharp backhand. Peeta could take a beating and his spirit would remain unbroken… but forcing the tender hearted young man to watch as those he cared for took the burden of pain meant to break him? It would destroy him.

"I held him every night," Effie told Haymitch softly. "I reminded him to stay strong, and not to give in. If he gave in, then everything we went through would be for nothing."

"Effie," Haymitch sighed. He almost wished Alma Coin would hear this. Effie Trinket had a rebel's heart and deserved to be in District Thirteen, no matter where she'd grown up.

"That isn't everything," Effie mentioned. "But I'm not sure if I'm ready to tell you more."

"I'm not pushing for more, Princess," Haymitch replied. Truth be told, he wasn't sure if he could hear any more of her story without giving into his urge to break something.

"I need to see him," Effie announced.

"That isn't a good idea, Sweetheart," Haymitch told her. Images of Peeta attempting to choke Katniss were just a little too fresh, and Katniss had been in a state where she could at least attempt to fight him off.

"He won't hurt me, Haymitch. He never did before, even when they dragged him away for hours on end, doing God knows what to him." Her blue eyes were imploring, silently begging Haymitch to let her see the boy she'd been treating like family for well over a year now.

"If he even tries to hurt you, I'll tear him apart," Haymitch relented. He stood up, ready to go figure out exactly how he would pull this off. "But I'll make it happen."

Effie cleared her throat. "Before you go," she could feel a blush heating her cheeks. "Would you kiss me?"

Of all the things she could have asked for, she requested the one thing he could give her without hesitation. His hand cupped her cheek, his lips a soft caress against hers. "I won't be long," he promised.

* * *

Haymitch's hand was tight on Peeta's shoulder as he guided the boy down to the secret hospital wing Effie was being held in. It had initially been built to quarantine anybody with infectious disease, but it also worked just fine to segregate away anybody Coin didn't want seen.

"She's not supposed to be here, Peeta," Haymitch reminded him. "And you sure as hell shouldn't be seeing her, so you can't say a word."

Peeta looked at Haymitch, his haunted eyes almost disdainful. "Who would believe me, anyway?" he asked.

Haymitch opened the door to Effie's room and stepped through, certain that Peeta would follow him.

Haymitch didn't miss the look of absolute terror on Effie's face when the door swung open. She was good, though… quickly schooling her face into a pleasant expression when she saw who her visitors were. Peeta began to tremble, a whimper escaping his lips.

"Peeta," Effie murmured, her tone just soothing enough to remind Haymitch of somebody trying not to startle a skittish animal. "Darling, come here," she ordered him gently, patting the edge of her bed.

"Effie," Peeta let a sob escape, launching himself at the bed and into Effie's arms. The pained expression on Effie's face when her leg was jolted didn't escape Haymitch's notice, but he didn't say anything because instead of attacking Effie the way he'd feared, Peeta had thrown himself into her embrace, Effie's skinny arms wrapped tightly around his shuddering frame. "Shhh, it's okay," Effie whispered. "Peeta, you're alright," she reminded him. "Haymitch got us out, just like I knew he would," her eyes locked with Haymitch's as she pressed her lips against Peeta's forehead. "We're safe and Snow cannot get to us anymore."

"Do you promise?" Peeta asked.

"I do," Effie replied. "I promise we're both safe and we are going to figure out how to undo whatever it is that Snow did to you, okay?" Her fingers began to run through Peeta's hair and she hummed to him, whispering reminders of safety in his ear. Haymitch recognised the song that Effie was humming. It was old… from before even the Dark Days. Surely knowledge of a song like that, from before Panem even existed was illegal.

"They used Tracker Jacker venom on him," Haymitch told Effie. "They've twisted every single memory of the other Tribute," he was careful not to use Katniss's name. Peeta didn't need that kind of trigger. "He thinks she's a Mutt."

Effie's eyes slipped shut. "That explains why he came back so terrified," she whispered. "And why he was so angry when I told him that she loves him." She looked at Haymitch. "We have to find a way to make this okay. I have to help him."

* * *

**I'd really love to hear your thoughts :)**

Come and play with me!

Twitter/tumblr: brookemopolitan ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**So here we are at chapter two. I know these take me a little while to bang out, so I always try and make them a little longer for you all. If anybody is curious at all, the choice of torturing Effie on a wheel was quite deliberate... google St Euphemia for more details on that :)**

**Another trigger warning on this chapter... there are heavy allusions to sexual violence in this chapter as well as discussion of imprisonment, torture and alcoholism. Safe to say this one is a little heavy, but I'm a firm believer in a happy ending.**

**Thank you, Em, for looking at this at 1am instead of sleeping like a normal person. You're a doll!**

**I still don't own, and like everybody else, I'm gutted by the loss of Phillip Seymour Hoffman. May he find the peace he couldn't in this life.**

* * *

It had been a week and Effie's leg was showing no sign of infection as it healed. The District Thirteen doctors had been pumping her with drugs to help speed up the healing process, but for such a major injury, it was still a long road to recovery.

"Doing well there, Sweetheart," Haymitch teased as Effie hobbled with the aid of crutches from the tiny bathroom back to her bed.

Effie just rolled her eyes in response. She refused to admit how privileged she felt, being able to use the bathroom on her own. There had been no sense of privacy during her imprisonment and her leg had initially kept her so immobile that she'd been forced to suffer the indignity of a bedpan.

"When do I get to leave this room, Haymitch?" Effie asked. She was so tired of feeling trapped. She'd spent her whole life in a cage of one kind or another and she just wanted to taste some freedom. First she'd been contained by the gilded bars of life in the Capitol- a prison so pretty she'd scarcely realised that she was trapped. Her opulent prison had been replaced by a dank hole that damaged her unflappable spirit beyond repair as easily as it broke her body.

She thought she'd finally escaped, free at last, only to be confined by four bland walls.

"I'm sorry, Princess," Haymitch sighed. "Coin is throwing her weight around. She claims that your presence in Thirteen could cause unrest with the former District Twelve citizens." Haymitch made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "Truth be told, she's pissed that Gale ignored her plan and that she got strong armed into keeping you alive. This is the only power play she has left, so she's going to be damn sure she uses it."

Effie sighed. Technically, she supposed this Coin woman had a point- the fact that she was present in Thirteen would almost certainly enrage the families of the children she'd sent to their deaths. She certainly wouldn't blame any one of their grieving family members for spitting in her face. "What do I have to do, Haymitch?" she sank back against the pillow, her eyes closed as her fingers traced the edge of her cast. "What do I have to go through to prove that my loyalty isn't to the Capitol any longer?"

The screech of terror that escaped her lips when Haymitch sat at the end of her bed and placed his hand on her unbroken thigh echoed against the grey walls.

Effie forced the knot out of her throat, reminding herself that it was Haymitch who was touching her. Haymitch, the one who buried his compassionate heart under layers of cynicism and alcohol. Haymitch who remembered how she took her coffee and kissed her just to muss up her lipstick and drive her insane. Haymitch would never hurt her... Certainly not intentionally, at least. She forced her eyes open and looked at Haymitch, trying not to let the concern on his face completely overwhelm her.

She couldn't be idle. She needed a task- something she could focus her attention on instead of the memories that threatened to send her completely mad. "There must be something, Haymitch."

Haymitch's fingers traced circles on her leg. She scanned his face. The hand on her leg belonged to _Haymitch_, she reminded herself. Dreaming of contact as simple as this was what kept her alive in that prison. She needed to relish this reality.

"There is one thing," Haymitch began softly. His hand stilled. "Dr Aurelius and Primrose Everdeen think they've figured out a way to reverse the hijacking that they managed on Peeta. But before they try, Dr Aurelius claims he needs all possible information he can get his hands on about Peeta's imprisonment. He said that the more information he has, the more chance he has of reversing the hijacking." Haymitch cleared his throat. "He's spoken to Annie and Johanna. They both said that you would be the person to speak to."

Effie felt like all the air had been knocked out of her lungs. She relived the hell of captivity every time she closed her eyes. How the hell could she talk about it over tea, like it was nothing more than gossip? "I don't want to talk about what happened to me," she whispered. She felt completely paralysed. The knot in her throat rose and her eyes flickered to the door, waiting for Snow's men to come in, ready to unleash a fresh wave of pain on her broken body and battered spirit.

As if from a distance, she heard someone call her name.

This was just her mind playing tricks on her, she told herself firmly. She began to rattle through a list of things she knew to be true. Her name was Euphemia Trinket. She liked to be called Effie. She was employed as the Escort to the District Twelve Tributes for the Annual Hunger Games. She became a prisoner of the Capitol of Panem for the role she played in the Revolution. She'd been rescued by Gale Hawthorne. Haymitch Abernathy had fought tooth and nail for both her and for Peeta to remain safe. Her knowledge could help Peeta.

She gasped when she felt Haymitch's hands grip her shoulders and shake her.

"What the fuck, Effie?" He growled, moving away from the bed to pace the length of the tiny room. "What just happened?"

"I'm sorry," she wheezed. "I don't know what that was, but I was there. I was back in the Capitol and it was about to begin all over again."

Haymitch silently cursed. It was foolish to think that Effie was going to be able to live through the Capitol's cruelty and come out unscathed. She wasn't like a District citizen. Her exposure to the bitter unfairness of life came as an adult. Her childhood experience of the Hunger Games had been one of excitement, not one that struck fear into the heart of an entire community. She hadn't been formed by terror and that just left her all the more easily destroyed by the Capitol.

Haymitch had responded to his own fear about what they'd done with misplaced anger. "I'm sorry, Princess," he sighed. "I shouldn't have grabbed you. Or yelled."

"It's too real, Haymitch," she whimpered. "I close my eyes and I'm right back in that prison cell. When I realise I'm here, I'm scared that this is all a dream and when I blink, I'll open my eyes and a Peacekeeper will be above me, strapping me back onto that wheel."

She was so tired of crying. It seemed like the second she got herself under control, something else would happen to set her off all over again.

"Tell me how I can help, Princess," Haymitch whispered.

Effie sniffled. "Could you hold me?"

Her former self would have been horrified at letting anybody see her so red eyed and snotty. Effie of the Capitol never would have wiped her nose on her sleeve, or scooted over on her bed to let Haymitch Abernathy of all people sit next to her.

This new Effie just didn't care. She felt the bed dip with Haymitch's solid weight and she curled against his warmth as best she could with her bulky cast. Even without the familiar scent of whiskey clinging to his skin, he smelt of comfort and familiarity and she breathed in the normalcy, willing her world to come back into order. "Does it ever get better?" Effie wondered; her voice muffled by the bland grey shirt Haymitch wore.

He exhaled sharply. He knew that he needed to open up old wounds, but his instincts screamed against it. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. His fingers traced patterns against her shoulder blade. He _hated_ sharing his story with a blind passion, but if he could help Effie, he needed to try, no matter the cost to him. "After I returned home from the Quarter Quell, it was like walking on a cloud. I had nightmares, sure, but every Victor I got the chance to speak to in the Capitol promised me they'd fade with time, and told me that I should enjoy the freedom I'd won myself and not to dwell on the cost."

"What else could you do?" Effie asked.

"Let me tell the story, Sweetheart," he requested. He needed to get it out all at once. Effie needed to keep her compassion for herself, not waste it on him. If she tried to comfort him as he spoke, he'd never finish his tale. "I left for the Victory Tour and I came home to find my entire family dead," he revealed. "Everybody I'd ever cared about were murdered in their beds. My parents. My irritating little sister. My baby brother," his voice hitched, "my girl. All dead and all because I'd been fool enough to use the Capitol's war machine against them. They'd never expected a District kid to outsmart them and the people I loved paid the price."

He felt Effie shudder against his chest.

"The nightmares got worse after that. There was never an official cause of death, so my imagination filled in the blanks," he cleared his throat. This wasn't supposed to be making him feel better. This was to help the damaged woman who was insane enough to find comfort in his embrace begin walking the path to closure. "It's a slippery slope, Effie. It used to just be a drink before bed. A little prescription from Doctor Ripper to help me sleep. Then one was enough and I needed another… and another. Liquid courage before a Reaping. A drink in memory of every Tribute I failed. Before I knew it, I needed a drink to get out of bed, get dressed and put together a façade of living some kind of life," he brushed his lips against Effie's forehead. "I never intended to become the man I am today. I didn't want to be like this, but here I am. And I don't want to see you, or Peeta or Katniss turn out like me, because I'm a shitty excuse for a human."

"I wouldn't go that far," Effie responded.

"I don't need you to sugar coat my actions Sweetheart. I'm an addict and because of that I've let kids die."

Despite the obvious self-loathing and deprecation, Effie wasn't horrified. If it was possible, she curled closer to him, her head nestled at the juncture of his shoulder and throat. "Withdrawal must have been awful for you," she commented simply.

"Beyond the physical discomfort of it all, it was the first time in twenty five years I actually experienced the reality of my shitty decisions," he replied. "Don't be like me, Princess," he implored her. "Don't hold your pain in until you have to find something to numb it. You deserve a better life than that."

"So does Peeta," Effie agreed after a moment of silence. "Haymitch, you've been taking care of Katniss, haven't you?" She asked.

"From the second I was capable of it," He replied. Haymitch had been friends with Katniss's father since he was four years old, and he'd felt the heaviness of obligation to keep his friend's daughter alive in the Arena. Now the kid felt as good as family. "She hasn't made it easy. She's almost determined to self destruct."

Effie sighed. She wasn't surprised that Katniss would cast herself in the role of a martyr.

"I need to look after Peeta," Effie decided. "If it will help him, I'll speak to Dr Aurelius." She almost smiled when she felt Haymitch's lips brush against her forehead in silent thanks. "But I don't want to talk about what they did to me," she added hastily. "I'm not ready."

"Okay," Haymitch agreed instantly. He was certainly in no position to push Effie into speaking about her trauma. He never had. Speaking about things made them real and he'd avoided reality for more than half his life. Effie could surely have a few weeks.

"I don't want you with me when I do it," Effie added. "I can't be worried about breaking your heart like mine is."

Those words shattered Haymitch more than he'd ever thought possible. Nobody had ever bothered to spare him pain before. Then Effie had come along in her silk and wigs… he never would have imagined that this Capitol darling would ever work her way into his heart and be prepared to defend his secrets no matter the personal cost.

He was only just learning how to support another human and the idea that the best thing he could do for her was to not do anything was confronting, to say the least. "Okay," he agreed finally. "I'll be right outside though. If you need me, just scream."

Effie nodded. "I'll speak to him tomorrow."

* * *

Her stomach was churning so powerfully that she'd been unable to so much look at her breakfast, shoving the tray towards Haymitch without a word. He didn't seem to be in a much better place than her, the tremor in his hand revealing just how badly he wanted to be drinking whiskey instead of milk.

He'd come to see Effie in the middle of the night, dragged down to the hospital wing when it was revealed that Katniss had been shot in District two and needed surgery.

Effie had barely managed an hour of sleep that night.

There was a knock at the door. Dr Aurelius had arrived.

"Go be with the children," Effie suggested stiffly, her frame rigid.

"Princess," Haymitch began, ready to protest the idea of leaving her alone.

"Darling, please," she begged. "I need to do this on my own."

The fear was raw in her blue eyes, but Haymitch relented none the less. He really could deny her nothing. "Fine," he replied. He brushed a kiss to her temple. "But I'll be close enough to hear you if you need me."

He strode out the door, not even acknowledging the good Doctor as he walked into the room.

"Dr Aurelius," Effie greeted him, her heart caught in her throat. "Please, come in," she gestured to the seat that Haymitch had claimed as his own, pulled up next to the bed.

She cleared her throat. "Usually I'd offer you a beverage of your choosing, but that doesn't seem to be the usual etiquette in District Thirteen," Effie spouted. She was aware that she was rambling and she longed for the familiarity of Capitol customs for when a guest visited. She finally managed to force herself to stop rambling and instead chewed nervously on her lip, almost managing to split open the healing wound there.

"I appreciate your hospitality none the less," Dr Aurelius replied soothingly. He regarded Effie calmly; content not to push her to open up too quickly. "Thank you for agreeing to speak to me," he began. "Many of my patients seem content for me to use their time to catch up on naps."

"It sounds like you've been spending some time with Katniss Everdeen," Effie replied, scratching the skin at the top of her cast. "Can we just discuss what you need to know?" She asked. "I assume you've been informed that I'm only willing to discuss Peeta Mellark?"

Dr Aurelius nodded. He'd read Effie's charts. He was well aware of the trauma she'd undergone and he hoped the time would come when he could at least try to help her. "Just tell me whatever you're comfortable telling me," he spoke gently, trying not to corner her, instead trying to gently coax her into sharing what she knew.

Effie ran her hand over her fuzzy hair, clearing her throat. "They never touched him," she began. "I suppose they knew that he would be the most valuable in terms of spreading propaganda, so he was always treated with kid gloves."

Effie observed that Dr Aurelius was making notes, so she paused and watched him scrawl. "What do you remember of how they treated him during his imprisonment?" He asked.

"He was always fed better than the rest of us," Effie commented. "I guess I was the first to notice that because a Capitol bitch like me doesn't know what it's like to go hungry." That had been the least of the insults she'd heard thrown at her. They all lived under her skin now like a veritable set of armour. Words like that couldn't be used against her any longer. "His cell was between mine and Johanna's. He attempted to slip us both pieces of fruit from the food they gave him. When he was caught, he got to watch us both be shocked for what had to be an hour before they shaved our heads."

"Why do you think they treated Peeta differently?" Dr Aurelius asked, putting down his pen to stare intently at Effie.

Effie pondered the question. "I suppose he still had value to them," she decided finally. "The people of the Capitol loved he and Katniss. They could make him their hero to her villain. He's such a brilliant speaker that if they had him onside, he could pacify the masses," she sighed. "And I suppose they knew that he could suffer pain. For most of his time in the Arena during his first Games his leg was hacked open and he endured that and lived to tell the tale, still the charming young man he always was. I don't think putting him through physical pain would be the best way to torture him."

"So by putting the people he cared about in pain, he was more likely to fall into line?" Dr Aurelius confirmed.

Effie wiped away the tear that tracked down her cheek. "I think that's what they hoped," she answered. "But none of us ever broke, so he had no excuse to."

"One day, Effie, I'd like to talk to you about your experiences," Dr Aurelius began. He saw the horrified look on her face. "But we don't have to do that today,"

"Good," Effie squeaked in response. She wasn't ready to face her demons yet.

"We're still trying to establish a time line for when they began the Hijacking procedure on Peeta, and we still don't know a terrible amount about it. Did you notice any changes in his behaviour?"

"It took a lot to have him finally agree to appear on television," Effie replied. She shuddered. She didn't think she'd ever forget the smell of burned flesh or the sound of Johanna's screams echoing around the prison quarters. "But I remember the night that he did because we all got a hot meal for the first time in weeks," Effie scoffed. "It wasn't until after I ate that I was informed that I would be responsible for planning his TV interview,"

"Were there consequences if you didn't?" Dr Aurelius interjected.

Effie sniffled. "I suppose," she responded. "There were consequences for everything and I was just so tired and I didn't want to hurt anymore and I thought that if I just agreed to do it I might spare myself some pain, if only because they couldn't have me around Capitol citizens beaten black and blue." She began to fidget with the blanket on the bed, her nails still too damaged for her to even try to bite. "I was the last to see Peeta before he went on. I was adjusting his lapel when he grabbed my hands and told me that he had a plan and that he was going to find a way to make sure Katniss didn't suffer like we did."

"And then he went on stage and tried to defend Katniss's role in the Rebellion before calling for a ceasefire," Dr Aurelius filled in the details. "I saw the interview," he informed Effie.

"It was assumed that I'd put him up to it," Effie revealed. "And I paid the price dearly for Peeta's failure to just stick to the script. President Snow made sure of it, personally." A shudder wracked her frame. If she stayed quiet for long enough, she could still feel his hands on her body… she wasn't sure that they'd ever go away. "I held Peeta for hours that night," Effie recalled. "He kept apologising, saying that he shouldn't have done it. But I'm proud that they hadn't managed to break him yet."

"Ms Trinket, I have to ask, did you see them Hijack Peeta?" Dr Aurelius asked.

Effie shook her head. "No," she replied softly. "We were still asleep when they dragged him out of his cell. I was hysterical. They hadn't so much as touched him and I was terrified that they'd been holding back, just waiting to destroy him in ways we'd never imagined."

"It sounds like they succeeded," Dr Aurelius commented.

"He used to come back an absolute mess," Effie recalled. She wasn't sure if she was a fan of the good doctor's bedside manner, or lack thereof. "He'd be shivering and shaking and he had no idea where he was or how to differentiate between what was real and what wasn't. Our beds shared the same wall of the cell, so I used to reach between and hold his hands as he came down from whatever they were doing to him," she looked over at Dr Aurelius, ready for his accusations. "What else was I supposed to do?" She demanded.

"You couldn't do anything, Effie," he replied. "You were a prisoner too."

Effie huffed out a sigh, a shadow of her former self. They were so close to the end. "They dragged him away every day. The Peacekeepers kept having their fun with the rest of us. It was like we were in a vacuum. Then the Rebels came to save us."

"Do you think your presence made a difference after Peeta's torture session?" Dr Aurelius asked.

Effie shrugged. "I always hoped it did. But one day, they brought him back and I was still strapped to that wheel," her shoulders ached at the memory. She was sure she'd done damage to the ligaments and she dimly worried if it would be permanent. "The Peacekeepers wanted to see how long I'd last on there," she explained. "Peeta came back, sobbing, as he usually was after one of their sessions. I soothed him as best I could from across the room, but he was inconsolable. He kept crying, saying that he needed an anchor. I passed in and out of consciousness for what could have been days. They could have done anything to Peeta in that time. The next thing I knew for certain was Haymitch Abernathy cutting me from the wheel, promising I was safe."

She noticed that Dr Aurelius seemed to underline those words in his notes. "Effie, would you be willing to be a part of Peeta's treatment?" Dr Aurelius asked. "He seems to trust you more than anybody else here and believe me, that could be incredibly useful to his therapy."

Peeta needed her. She'd sworn to protect him. "Anything is better than sitting in here all day," she replied.

Dr Aurelius gathered his notes and walked to the door. "When you're ready, Effie, my door is open for you," he reminded her.

She managed her first genuine smile since she arrived at District Thirteen. "Thank you, Doctor," she replied. "I'll remember that."

* * *

Haymitch had taken up a silent vigil at Katniss's bedside, vaguely considering whether or not he should have an earpiece surgically inserted into her head. He didn't understand how she managed to consistently injure herself any time she was allowed out of the confines of District Thirteen. He shivered. This was far too close a call.

He barely turned when he heard somebody sit down next to him. "How is she?" Johanna asked.

He shrugged. "Impact of the bullet damaged her spleen. They had to yank it out. I'm told she'll live," he sighed. "If she stops acting like a big damn hero."

"That's good," Johanna replied. She sat in silence for a few moments. "How's Effie?" she questioned.

Haymitch raised an eyebrow. Johanna Mason was the last person he would have expected to give a rat's ass about an Escort. "Hey, we had our heads shaved together. We're practically BFFs," Johanna attempted the frivolous accent of a Capitol woman before giving a mirthless laugh.

Haymitch didn't answer.

"Seriously," Johanna poked him. "Your girlfriend better be okay or I'll tear Coin's head off myself."

"Why do you care?" Haymitch asked. He couldn't give a fuck if he was being overly harsh. He could barely get his head around his tumultuous relationship with Effie, let alone attempt to justify it to anybody else.

"We all would have given in if it weren't for her," Johanna admitted. "I didn't know what the hell she was doing with us. There was no way that some Capitol rat could ever be on our side. But she was… and she was too damn stubborn for me to ever consider giving in. If some princess who'd never known pain could stand what they did to her, what right did I have to cower?"

"What did they do to her?" Haymitch asked. He refused to look at her file and he certainly wasn't about to ask Effie, but his imagination was proving quite effective at filling in the gaps.

"Haymitch," Johanna practically rolled her eyes at him. "She came here stark naked, strapped spread eagle on a giant wheel. What do you think they did to her?"

She didn't miss the way that Haymitch's hands clenched into fists at the implication of her words. Johanna put her hands over one of his. "Haymitch, don't be a dumbass," she snapped. "Trashing the fine facilities here isn't going to change anything," she spotted Dr Aurelius walking through the hallways of the hospital. "Go and be with her. I'll take care of Katniss."

Haymitch stood up. He didn't know when the kid had gotten so wise, but he figured he should probably listen. "You just want to tap into Katniss's morphling supply," he asserted.

Johanna looked up at him from where she sat and shrugged. "Takes an addict to know an addict," she replied.

* * *

I'd love to hear your thoughts... especially on the one and only Ms Mason. The next chapter should feature some bonding between her and Effie, if you're at all interested :)

Come and play! I'm brookemopolitan on twitter and tumblr :)


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